A Day in the Life
by crystalswolf
Summary: What are the hidden aspects of Vulcan culture? In this series, each chapter glimpses one day in the life of a Vulcan. Perhaps, through them, we may learn those little secrets.
1. Peace of Mind

A Day in the Life Series

T.V. Series: Enterprise Era

Rating: T

Warning: Some may not agree with the religious practices described.

Note: Thank you Honeybee1111 for your help and encouragement with this story, especially reminding me that sometimes the details in my head do not always make it to the computer.

Series Summary: Inspired by Escriba's beautiful picture, I began to wonder about Vulcans and their unwillingness to share information about certain aspects of their culture. What are these hidden aspects of Vulcan culture? Each chapter will describe one day in the life of a Vulcan.

Chapter Summary: Pon farr has always been shrouded in mystery. When experiencing pon farr, who does a Vulcan male turn to without a mate?

Disclaimer: Of course, I do not own the Star Trek Universes.

xxx

The ripples of water moved slowly across the surface and around L'Sar as the hands of her attendant, G'Sar, worked to massage the mineral enriched liquid into her skin. Flecks of crushed sacred herbs, to aid in meditation, bobbed up to the surface with every movement of her legs under water.

Those relaxing hands disappeared, signaling the end of her massage. L'Sar could have continued her bath if she required more cleansing but there was no need, she was ready for her next assignment.

Standing, she felt the soft fabric slip over her shoulders and absorb the slow to dribble liquid from her body. Exceptionally plush material in a rectangular shape with a cut from center to end lengthwise, it covered her body fairly well. The bathing cavern, buried under layers of foundation to retain all moisture, could become quite cool as it was insulated from the heat of the Vulcan suns. For heat-loving Vulcans, it was an uncomfortable chill most would avoid.

Supported by her assistant, L'Sar stepped out of the bath and onto the cobbled stone floor of the cavern. There were several baths etched into the floor and spread apart widely, some filled and some empty.

Stepping around the candles placed along the floor throughout the cavern, she savored the flicker of heat they produced against the chill of the large stone room. Their thick, oily scent hinted of the same herbs in her bath and filled her nose. She knew she would smell them for half the day.

In one of the closer baths, L'Ren lounged in the liquid as her assistant, G'Ren, washed her hair with the traditional latherless soap of their Order. L'Sar could tell her fellow priestess was still deep in meditation, obviously still preoccupied with recovering from a recent assignment. L'Ren's head turned slightly, barely out of the trance to give a subtle nod in L'Sar's direction.

Returning the nod, L'Sar turned and walked toward the steep staircase made of the same cobbled material. Bright light poured from the unseen top landing of the stairs hidden by the cavern's rounded entrance. The bright twin sunlight against the dim light of the cavern blinded her enough to cause her second eyelids to close involuntarily.

Before she'd reached the first step, L'Sar heard the slapping sound of bare feet against the stone floor and G'Sar appeared kneeling beside her with slippers quietly placed on the floor before her. L'Sar slipped her feet into them and made her way up the stairs and into the open air and warmth of the suns.

The entrance of the cavern was nothing more than an inconspicuous hole in the ground near the temple. There were many of these entranceways scattered along the flatter land of this temple carved into the mountain. Unless familiar with the layout, one could not distinguish one entrance from another were it not for the combination of stones surrounding the holes in a "C" formation. Those of her Order were always marked with a large crimson stone in the center of the formation. The two blue on either side of it signified the bathing chamber.

L'Sar remembered when she was an acolyte, assisting her mentor. It was not easy to assist a master of their Order; to always make oneself available to serve at a moment's notice. But it was necessary for the acolyte to witness, first hand, the requirements of a master such as L'Sar.

Not that it taught all that was required. Nothing could fully prepare a fledgling for all that was expected of her. But then, the same could be said for anything else in life.

Her body dried fully under the suns and L'Sar felt the thick water that clung to her skin dry and flake away as she walked toward the boundary of the grounds where the walkway dropped down the mountain. Below, she saw more holes along that land, entranceways to other caverns and chambers with more masters and their acolytes moving about their tasks.

L'Sar heard footsteps and turned to see G'Sar emerge from the bathing cavern. G'Sar walked toward her, the acolyte's face flushed green from the hard work of cleaning the bath. L'Sar remembered the work.

Now, toward the entrance of the temple, L'Sar shrugged the fabric from her shoulders and G'Sar caught it before any part touched the dusty ground. Her nude body continued to soak in the sunlight and flake away the remaining mineral bath. Each step rejuvenated her as she tried to extend her time outside in the warmth with smaller steps than usual.

But she inevitably made it to the entrance and the cool shade of the carved mountain. Inside the actual temple, stones were polished to a glossy sheen that reflected the little sunlight that entered, bouncing from walls to floors to stairs and back. Windows were not necessary for light when everything inside reflected so much from so little.

Once in her chamber, G'Sar helped her dress by sliding the thin, simple white fabric across one shoulder and there placed an ornamental clasp of sacred Vulcan stones to gather the material. The assistant tied the hand-twined cord to gather the fabric at her waist allowing the rest to flow freely to just above her knees. Once satisfied with her clothing, L'Sar left her chamber with G'Sar in tow, heading for her elder's office.

It was now time for her daily visit to the elder she'd once known as L'Sar. They were only a glimpse of the ancient cycle of their Order as it had been since before the time of Surak.

A woman entered the Order as a laborer, just as L'Sar had done years ago. When chosen as an acolyte, she shed the name given by her parents for that of her line within the Order. In L'Sar's case, it was the "Sar" line, one of the oldest in the Order. The "G" before her name signified the honor of her training status that she had worn proudly.

Only two years ago, she was elevated from acolyte to the level of master, trading "G" for "L" before her Order name. When the current Elder, her mentor, can no longer perform her function as head of their line, L'Sar will become Sar and lead her line through yet another cycle of their unbroken chain.

L'Sar opened the old plank door and found Sar sitting at her desk. A small bored hole allowed sunlight to enter the room, bouncing off the polished walls and floor and illuminating the area entirely as though it were bathed in sunlight. Without the need for candles during this time of day, their smell of oil and herbs had faded and gave way to the strong rock and mineral scent of the polished stone and the slight sweet scent of her wooden desk.

"Live long and prosper, Elder," she held her hand up to her mentor with her fingers together except for the ring and middle-finger, creating a "V" shape. L'Sar was sure G'Lar stood behind her with a hand raised in the same formation as expected of an acolyte to show respect to the elder, without uttering a word. L'Sar spoke for her when the two were together.

"Peace and long life, my daughters," Sar answered and L'Sar heard the retreating sounds of G'Sar's feet out of the room and the door closed behind her.

"Please sit, L'Sar," the elder woman motioned to the seat in front of her desk. Her once black hair now gray and styled in Sar's typical elaborate up-do of several individual locks weaving in and out of multiple hair adornments.

L'Sar did as she was told. Even though each day she met her elder in the office at the same time in the same ritual, L'Sar never assumed what the woman would tell her. As an acolyte years ago, Sar made sure to change routine whenever L'Sar became too comfortable anticipating her mentor's wishes. Her mentor once explained how the universe was an unpredictable place and one should always embrace that truth.

"I have an assignment for you, today," Sar slid a PADD across the desk with three fingers and L'Sar took it in her hand. It was not her place to read in front of the elder but there was one thing she could not take for granted.

"Is this time-sensitive, Elder?"

The woman's head shook in response. "It is early, yet. You have time to prepare and study."

Nodding, L'Sar understood that this also acknowledged it was time for her to leave and prepare, but did not move until Sar spoke once more. "Until tomorrow, Daughter."

L'Sar pulled herself from the chair and made her way out of the room. Outside, G'Sar stood by the door, back leaning on the wall and hands laced together in front. "I must prepare, Sister," L'Sar told her assistant as she made her way back to her chamber.

Back in the sparse room of her chamber, G'Sar covered the small light portal and began lighting candles in several areas as L'Sar sat at her desk. The acolyte worked efficiently and silently around L'Sar as she read the PADD.

"Name: Sivon. Age: 89. Tenth pon-farr. Wife deceased for six years. One twenty-two year old daughter. Architect specializing in the merging of Vulcan and Earth structural styles. Assigned to Earth until recently."

L'Sar understood what "recently" meant. The poor man had to return home for pon-farr. It was more than an inconvenience, L'Sar was quite aware. It was humiliating to a Vulcan. Having to stop everything in their life for this cycle, it rendered them incapacitated by their surging, uncontrolled emotions.

But there was something more she sensed as she stared at the writing on the PADD. She knew his heart ached quietly and she felt a tear well in her eye and wiped it away discreetly. This was why her mentor chose her as an acolyte.

Very young, L'Sar could sense the emotions of others without physical contact. As she matured, her ability evolved from merely sensing emotions, to actually feeling them as her own. By adolescence, she no longer required close proximity to a person to sense them.

Almost driven mad by the constant bombardment of what lurked beneath the calm Vulcan demeanor, the distraught young woman followed the suggestion of a counseling priestess. It was agreed that she would join the local temple.

Immediately following the dissolution of her betrothal, she became a temple laborer and was counseled in advanced techniques for blocking her empathic ability. Five years had passed before she was chosen as her mentor's acolyte.

Even now before meeting this man she sensed his pain and chemicals surged throughout her body as pon-farr, his pon-farr, triggered her biological response.

Committed to memory, L'Sar handed the PADD to G'Sar and moved to the full length mirrors in the corner. They were not actual mirrors but the rock of the walls polished and treated until they reflected perfectly. G'Sar left the room to return the PADD to Sar and L'Sar pulled her hair behind her pointed ears, looking at her reflection.

Distracted, L'Sar felt the connection already established. His pain stirred inside her and her amber colored eyes already glistened with more moisture taking more effort to fight them back. It was fortunate there was time. If he had this effect on her so soon, she required the added time to prepare, to manage his uncontrolled emotions she absorbed so readily.

No preference for the elaborate hairstyles Sar did, L'Sar opted for her long, black hair to flow down her back freely. She did, however, prefer headpieces like her circlets that dangled precious and sacred stones from thin, sturdy threads. From her small chest of draws she pulled her antique band of shimmering, silvery metal with stones dangling and placed it on her head.

"Yes," she spoke aloud to herself, "he will like this."

In the center of the room, L'Sar sat on her preserved, wild sehlat fur, a family heirloom centuries old she brought with her from her life before the Order. It was all she had to connect her to her family, giving her some grounding. Her eyes closed and she began to meditate, preparing for the increasing turbulence of his emotions becoming her own.

xxx

The door opened and L'Sar did not move from her meditative position. She heard the heavier footsteps and knew this was not G'Sar but Sivon, her assignment. Her head turned just in time to see him step inside the room fully and G'Sar close the door behind him.

His face flushed a bright green and his eyes were low as he raised his hand to issue her a greeting, "Live long-"

"That is not necessary," she interrupted and watched his hand lower. "Come," she motioned for the Vulcan man to sit on the fur opposite her. They did not have time for such formalities. With each step he took toward her, the assault of his emotions threatened her control.

He silently knelt down but his body shivered and L'Sar noticed the sheen of perspiration begin across his brow. "My wife wore a similar headpiece when we were married," he mentioned, his eyes glancing toward her but never directly at her. He pulled his fists together and lifted his index fingers together and upward to begin meditation as his jaw clenched. L'Sar assessed he had time before the blood fever consumed him. This wasn't always so with assignments.

When assignments were in the throes of blood fever there was no time to search for the most appropriate course of action. It had to be sated immediately by the most basic of solutions. Otherwise there was time for the finesse only careful consideration would allow. In those times, she could discern his most favorable resolution to pon-farr.

There were times when a Vulcan man required most the victory of overcoming pon-farr through meditation. In these cases it was her duty to mentally assist him in his quest to quell the natural drive through a focused mind. But this situation was not one of them, which is why she pressed her fingers against key points on his face.

Unlike others of her Order, she did not have to probe his mind as deeply. Perhaps that was another reason why her mentor chose her. Her mind already attuned to his, she felt the instability pon-farr caused before she ever met him but now she sensed his fear that he could not meditate his way through it. She felt the shame and guilt he felt for coming to her. Like a web, one thread of thought led to another and so she followed the thread of his guilt, willing her mind to his center that became increasingly tangled.

At the end of it, she found in his mind how he missed intimacy with his wife. She was the only being in their world he could share his deeply hidden emotions. His buried pain, amplified by exposure to the openly intimate couples on Earth, reminded him constantly of what he'd lost. Pon-farr finally surfaced those emotions from his careful Vulcan control.

What he wanted, now brought to light through pon-farr, was one last night with his wife to say goodbye. It was something denied him when she died in an explosion aboard a transport vessel to Vulcan. A malfunction robbed him of his only emotional outlet.

L'Sar's eyes closed in concentration and her mind adjusted his thought patterns ever so slightly. With the skill from years of training, it was nothing significant but enough for him to believe his senses when his eyes opened. This night was not to be committed to conscious memory but an abstract concept within his subconscious. He will find closure while satisfying his biological need.

"Open your eyes husband."

She knew the voice he heard was his wife's. He opened his eyes and they widened at the sight of a woman gone from the realm of the living. At least that is what his mind allowed him to hear and see. His index and middle fingers extended while his hand trembled. L'Sar connected her two fingers to his to form an "x".

Her delicate connection to the Vulcan man flowed to guide her embodiment of the woman for the night, in essence becoming the woman for him in her actions as well.

xxx

The first sun rose but there was no sign of it in her chamber. The small portal of light still covered, L'Sar's only awareness of time was the low creak of her chamber's door slowly opening. G'Sar's head peeked through along with the morning light spilling into the room.

L'Sar gently lifted Sivon's limp arm draped across her chest and placed it to the side of his exhausted body. Still connected to him telepathically, her eyes could not help but linger on his sleeping form and for only a fraction of a second she considered a life with the man.

With a deep breath, she reminded herself that this was nothing more than the effects of her telepathic link connecting her to him mentally and emotionally. No longer disabled by pon-farr, she successfully suppressed her emotions without difficulty. She slipped from her bed and dressed herself in the clothes she wore the day before.

Outside of her room, the reflective surfaces of the temple's central area glowed with the soft orange color of the first sunrise. On one side, her mentor stood ahead of several laborers waiting for her to leave. On the other side of her door, G'Sar waited to escort her to the bathing cavern.

L'Sar nodded toward Sar in respect and understanding, knowing they would not enter her chamber until she exited the temple. Sar, the primary contact for assignments, would enter the chamber and gently wake the man. Her conversation with him will determine his mental and physical health while escorting him to her office as the laborers use the time to clean her chamber thoroughly.

Outside L'Sar prepared herself for deep meditation but noticed, peripherally, G'Sar turn to her as though there were something her acolyte wanted to say but thought better of it.

"Share your thoughts, Sister."

"His pain was overwhelming. How did you endure it?" the acolyte's almost black eyes studied her mentor. G'Sar was sensitive to the emotions of others as well. More than Sar but less than L'Sar, it appeared to be enough to receive Sivon's anguish over the loss of his wife.

L'Sar remembered the confusion as an acolyte when her mentor encountered such strong, volatile emotions and the only advice she could give was the bit of wisdom Sar had once given her.

"Through meditation you prepare, with practice you will understand."

G'Sar breathed deeply and L'Sar sensed her acolyte's frustration. The answer did not satisfy G'Sar, just as it did not satisfy L'Sar when she was an acolyte. Unfortunately, there was no answer to the question. Some aspects in the service of their Order could not be explained, one must learn from experience.

Inside their Order's bathing cavern, G'Sar led her to a filled bath prepared while she slept. With her assistant's help, she stepped out of the chill of the cavern and into the thick liquid, submerging herself in the mineral rich, herb-infused water to her chest. Extending her legs outward, L'Sar sank deeper into the liquid until her chin touched the surface of the water.

L'Sar focused on a nearby candle to begin her meditation, not to suppress but purge the link between her and Sivon. It was not a simple task. It was never a simple task, but with her training, the aid of the herbs, and the energizing support of the minerals, she began the process to shed the connection.

Aware of G'Sar's departure, L'Sar had time to concentrate quietly. She knew her acolyte returned to her chamber to prepare her clothes for the day. After several minutes of meditation, G'Sar would return with a drying fabric. After the washing of her hair and a massage, L'Sar will dress and visit her elder for her next assignment.


	2. His Companion

Chapter Title: His Companion

Chapter Summary: Addresses everyday life of a Vulcan musician. Thank you Honeybee for cracking the Vulcan whip. :)

Disclaimer: Of course, Star Trek characters do not belong to me

xxx

The first sun had long since cleared the horizon and poured its warming light through the full length windows. Outside, Arrath could hear their family pet sehlat pacing and the soft thunk of her ceramic feeding bowl placed on the ground.

Just outside of the window, A'Vun urged Jynen to eat and his young voice cracked with concern for the animal. Arrath considered reminding his son how events such as these were opportunities to hone one's emotional control. The boy was, after all, of an age where more control was expected of him.

Ultimately, Arrath determined that this was not the time. The animal's loss of appetite was another sign that their family's aging pet rapidly approached the end of her life cycle. It had been days since she'd eaten a full meal.

Although he and his wife warned their son of the inevitable, and the boy accepted their warning outwardly, Arrath did not think A'Vun accepted the information completely.

The child would speak of the small improvements in Jynen's health, unaware of his parents' concealed glances to one another. Although there were the occasional indications of improvement, there was far more evidence of decline and both Arrath and his wife were certain their child had come to the same logical conclusion. However, unlike him and his wife, their son did not have the benefit of so many years of learning to face the unyielding truth of logic in all aspects of life.

From his bed, Arrath stepped closer to the full strength of the sunlit windows just enough to feel the warmth on his skin from his forehead down to his bare toes. The clay tiles, heated from hours of baking under the morning sun, warmed his feet from underneath. He watched Jynen pacing, her path worn in the sandy soil as her full bowl lay near her, ignored.

In the central area of the house, his wife washed the vegetables, newly picked from their garden, as she did every morning. He preferred these crops during their warmer seasons whereas the fruits and vegetables produced during colder seasons tended to be sweeter and less palatable.

He watched his wife's shoulder length hair sway as she scrubbed the remaining dirt from the surface of the produce. Slipping her gloves, specifically made for handling their food, she continued her morning ritual by storing harvest in the stasis chamber.

Not expecting her husband awake before the second sunrise, T'Istren's eyes widened momentarily before she removed the gloves and extended her index and middle fingers. Extending his two fingers in response, he pressed them to hers. It was not long after they'd separated when they heard Jynen's sehlat cry.

Arrath walked to the garden entrance and watched his son refresh their pet's bedding between two sizeable bushes. Inside the house, he heard the water of their kitchen faucet stop and then the sound of his wife's sandaled feet pat their way behind him.

A weaker screech than he'd ever heard from Jynen, Arrath breathed deeply, "Her time approaches quickly."

Behind him, he turned to see T'Istren walk back to the sink and finish cleaning the area around it. Her hair continued to sway as she worked, her eyes focused on her task as they always were, and her face as unreadable as expected.

Outside, A'Vun stroked the thick fur of the animal. Although his little fingers were dwarfed by the size of a fully grown sehlat, they proved to be enough to calm her into standing still to scratch a particularly itchy spot on her back.

When the creature grew weary of A'Vun's attention, she continued her endless march from one wall of the garden to the opposite side.

The rest of the day's responsibilities awaited, and A'Vun finished layering the fresh bedding. He then raked the old bedding and waste into the pile to compost where he tossed a handful of a mineral pre-blended that would kill any undesirable organisms as well as control the odor. Before heading back to the house, A'Vun turned to check Jynen's food bowl one last time.

"Father," A'Vun stopped before fully entering the house. "It is most agreeable to see you before we leave." The boy looked up at his father with a perfectly emotionless face as he stared in deep respect and admiration with eyes he inherited from his mother. Arrath found it agreeable that his child inherited his mother's eyes. The color of rich brown flecked with delicate red sparkling much like jewels scattered along fertile soil.

Arrath nodded in agreement. In his line of work, he rarely saw his family in the early morning before their daily routines began.

Collecting his supplies for pre-primary instruction, A'Vun turned one last time, "Jynen will not eat her food at the moment. Can you remove her bowl in the afternoon, Father?"

It was always T'Istren that collected the food bowl from Jynen in the afternoon. As though she anticipated his confusion, T'Istren added, "There are some supplies we require within the city limits. I will not return until it is time to bring A'Vun home.

Arrath nodded and watched his family leave before he walked into his practice room. Freeing his eestram from its stand, he placed his old companion on the floor securely between his legs. With a gentle motion back, his hand slid the bow out of its storage sling and gracefully his arm moved forward connecting bow to the strings of the eestram. Together they began to practice for their night performance.

Just as the first time he'd placed an eestram against his thigh, his companion extracted the all that was lock within him sending it out into the air much like the scent of a temple candle when lit.

He'd chosen most of the songs for the night's program already, but the final piece eluded him. Always more difficult to decide upon, he allowed several other songs to play through him and his companion, hoping they could find some inspiration.

The light of the twin suns spread across the floor and when it gently kissed the bottom of his eestram, it reminded Arrath that he had agreed to remove Jynen's food bowl much earlier in the day.

Time had passed quickly, as it often did when he and his companion were together, but so much time had gone by that soon his wife and son would be home. Arrath gently returned his companion to its stand and the bow in the cloth case beside it.

Strangely quiet for this time of day in the courtyard, he walked passed the gated vegetable garden and into the shaded corner between two bushes where Jynen slept. The bowl was where A'Vun had left it, still filled with food. Looking closely, he noticed no movement from the sehlat and then a labored, raspy breath.

"Father, did Jynen eat her food?" his son asked from somewhere near the courtyard entrance of the house. Arrath would rather have had the opportunity to examine the creature before his family returned but obviously it was too late. He breathed deeply and felt the steady beating of his heart, the sound that helped to focus his mind on logic rather than emotion.

He turned to see his son behind him now and his wife standing in the doorway. The two pairs of eyes focused on the barely moving being tucked between two bushes.

Although their eyes were identical in shape and color, they were not in what they conveyed. T'Istren's eyes were matched only by her impeccably stolid expression whereas A'Vun's displayed the very war he fought against the logic of inevitability.

"A'Vun, it is what must be."

Before Arrath could finish his sentence, A'Vun walked passed him and across the garden. His face remained impassive but his eyes proved that surrender to the logic of the situation was just as inevitable as Jynen's end-of-cycle. Crawling between the bushes, A'Vun curled beside his pet as he'd done as a toddler against his parents' wishes.

In the doorway, T'Istren's stared at her son as her lips pressed together before turning into the house.

Only moments later Arrath heard his son whispering for their pet to awaken and knew it was time to remove the boy from what were now remains. Plucking his son from the bushes, Arrath reminded him that there was no logic in fighting death, "All is as it should be."

A'Vun didn't argue and he didn't make a sound as Arrath carried him to his room, the boy's face buried deeply in his father's chest. After gently placing him on the bed, A'Vun curled away from his father and covered his face with a loosely balled fist.

Before leaving his room, Arrath heard a soft sniffle from the bed. Children his age were allowed to display some emotion under certain circumstances. Giving him privacy, Arrath closed the door and walked outside into the courtyard.

T'Istren stood by the bushes with a blanket of burlap material draped across her arms and stared at what was once her childhood pet.

Taking the blanket from T'Istren, Arrath collected Jynen's remains that he wrapped in the blanket. He placed it on the platform for the furnace of their family's crematorium before returning outside to stand beside his wife. Holding out his hand to her with two fingers extended, she accepted it reluctantly while never looking directly at him.

When they'd separated, T'Istren walked away.

He'd found her in their bedroom sitting on the floor, facing the window. Eyes closed and breathing controlled, she entered the initial stage of meditation. Without a word, Arrath took a small, misshapen temple candle from their meditation chest and lit it in front of them.

The candle was a reminder of a time when he was a young boy visiting an uncle in the local temple. The man was a candlesmith and for a time Arrath considered that path, but after his first eestram lesson, there was no doubt what he would become.

The candle was all that was left of that other path, of the road not taken, and the two watched as it burned down to nothing more than a pool of oily wax.

By nightfall they would have to say their last goodbye to Jynen, T'Istren and A'Vun's childhood friend. When the last sun set, they would light the furnace and scatter their friend's ashes in the wind but for now they sat quietly and watched the pool of oily wax disappear into nothingness.

xxx

Arrath walked on the small stage and sat on the solitary chair in front of his audience. His companion at his side, he lifted it from its stand as well as the bow and began to play the first song.

Separately they were nothing, but together, each note represented words combined to tell stories that he could not speak. But his companion could sing.

His eestram whistled with higher notes telling of Arrath's time in the temple as a child. It sang of the bubbling mixtures of oil and wax and dried herbs. How the fragrantly spicy herbs were dutifully molded into the oily wax until all became one and how soothing it was as fingers worked the near hot material into form. The story continued of how it took years to master the fine art of temple candle-making, a task he achieved his first try.

Short, rough notes reminisced of his first lessons with the eestram and his companion told of how Arrath had become enthralled by the sounds it produced. With those first notes, the instrument pulled a part of him to the surface from deep within. The respectable vocation of candlemaking was left by the wayside so that a Vulcan and an eestram could merge with one voice.

The song ended. A couple of humans, obviously unfamiliar with Vulcan etiquette at such events, began to clap a couple of times before they noticed the disapproving expressions of others around them.

Arrath waited until there was absolute silence once more. The next song began with strong thrusts of his bow and his companion hummed a tune communicating to their audience the connection between Arrath and his wife when they were young and betrothed. The instrument described Arrath's wife on their wedding day, pon-farr only beginning to stir in him, and each note crying with joy of their union. The emotion of the memory pouring from the instrument contrasted with his rigidly stoical countenance.

When Arrath remembered the first time they shared their bed as husband and wife, it shamelessly purred mid and low tones of arousal and passion describing how perfectly their minds merged as wholly as their bodies. Ending the song, the notes quickened until the strings of his companion quivered in short high notes to Arrath's memory.

As his companion filled the room with emotion, Arrath outwardly expressed no connection to them. He and his companion were the two sides of one coin. Arrath was the precision of logic and his companion was the chaos of emotion. He was mind and it was soul and together they produced something that touched both and perhaps something more.

This time the humans allowed him a quiet interlude between songs to concentrate for the next.

His companion's high and mid tones whistled of A'Vun's birth. It was not an easy delivery. The lives of both mother and child were in danger and his companion's notes tightened with Arrath's fear of losing everything. And the whistling returned, celebrating an exhausted but healthy mother and their strong newborn son in her arms.

Arrath allowed the song to end with a long, high note that slowly faded in the air until all went silent again. He took a breath and began his next song, the first of two he'd chosen just before the concert.

His companion moaned deeply as it mourned the loss of Jynen. Not for Arrath but for T'Istren and A'vun. T'Istren spent most of her life with the pet and Arrath's companion cried deep, bellowing sobs for her. His son had known the creature for his entire life and the instrument wept short, mid to low tones for him. A high pitch followed closely by a low groan from his companion described the pain he sensed from them as they lit the furnace to say goodbye one last time to the lost member of their family.

Humming a single tone, his companion sang of his family continuing with their lives. T'Istren would miss the presence that had been a part of her life for so long and suddenly no longer there. Her daily routine disrupted, a comfort of life removed, logic would become her support and he would be her strength.

A'Vun would be allowed to mourn openly for their pet for no more than another day and then, as T'Istren, he must find solace in logic. Arrath's companion sang long deep notes and in between them were short, high bursts. This was his Vulcan heart. This was the song of every Vulcan's heart.

When the song ended, Arrath bowed his head deeply toward his audience. Satisfied that his audience would appreciate his performance, if not completely understand it as he had, Arrath returned his companion to the stand with its bow.

In the center of the audience were the humans he'd seen earlier. Their sounds of fervent applause, complete with undignified whistles, filled the room disregarding disapproving glances from the Vulcans around them.

He watched as one human woman wiped a tear from her almond shaped eye and smiled, "He made me feel... he made me feel..." but she could not seem to find the words to finish her sentence until finally, "He made me feel."

One of her companions stood clapping. The tall Human man commented loudly toward another man Arrath guessed as a Denobulan, "That was spectacular!"

Discreetly, another human man placed one hand atop of a Vulcan woman's hand that rested on her lap. With some effort, he managed to lift his other arm resting in a sling to wipe at his face. She, however, remained unmoved outwardly but Arrath could see something stir in her eyes. Regardless, the Human man's gesture went unnoticed by any other in the room.

As Arrath stood to leave the stage, he considered how outwardly emotional these humans were and felt another song well inside him along with the urge to hold his companion once again. But he accepted that it would have to wait for another day as he breathed in deeply and continued off stage.

xxx

He returned home late, as he often did after a concert. A night-torch afire in the garden spilled warm, golden light from the windows and dimly lit the center of the house. In his study, he returned his friend to its stand with utmost care and walked toward A'Vun's room. Arrath opened the door slowly, taking care not to wake the child, and watched the steady rise and fall of the sleeping boy's chest for a long moment before finally exiting.

In his bedroom, T'Istren lay asleep. By the light of the torch in their from his bedroom window, he removed his robes and slipped into his night clothes. Arrath eased into bed trying not to wake his wife and closed his eyes. The woman turned in bed toward him and draped her arm across his chest while she slept. Arrath arranged notes in his mind forming a new song before sleep took hold of him.


	3. Missionary's Perspective

Chapter Title: Missionary's Perspective

Chapter Summary: A Vulcan man and his family try to teach Surak's wisdom to one of the distant Vulcan colonies.

Rating: K

A/N: A hearty thanks to Honeybee for helping with the story while so busy.

Disclaimer: Of course, Star Trek does not belong to me.

xxx

Along the edge of the forest, the bluish-green leaves of the trees swayed in the breeze from high above.

This planet was nothing like Vulcan where mountains were nothing more than bare stone. Instead, on this planet, they were blanketed with trees and lower lying vegetation. Spreading from the mountains in all directions, the land flattened into a dense, massive forest that ended in grassland. From there, grasses and brush covered the outer areas of the planet's single landmass, stretching outward to the shores.

When they had come to this planet, Mirok and his family chose to settle in one of the grasslands close to the forest's edge. Reared under the open sky of Vulcan, the dense tree cover felt too constricting for Mirok and his wife to settle within the forest itself.

As the sun continued to rise from the horizon, Mirok stood among several children and a couple of adults sitting on the ground listening to his words. They were curious about this Surak and what he had to say to them. Speaking from his copy of the Kir'Shara, Mirok shared with the people the ancient teachings of Surak.

On the ground, a boy of nine years pulled dried meat from a leather pouch slung across his hip and began to gnaw on it. Mirok stopped reading and focused on him. "Prael, Surak teaches us that it is not logical to consume flesh."

Only Mirok was uncomfortable with the boy eating the meat so casually. But then there was no reason for those around them to be uncomfortable.

Generations ago when Vulcan pilgrims first settled on this planet, they left behind some aspects of their culture as a necessity. Since those first days on this world, there was no attempt to return to a purely logical way of life, opting for a more carnal, barbaric system. However, in some form, logic continued to be an important part of their culture.

"Why is it illogical?" asked Prael. Having stopped chewing for a moment, his peridot eyes studied Mirok with great interest.

"It is illogical to take a life for sustenance," Mirok answered.

Prael thought for a moment. "You take a life each time you cut one of your vegetables from the vine."

"We only take a part of the plant, share in its life force but never take it completely."

"And we take what we require," Prael said simply as he shrugged, "nothing more." He swallowed what was left in his mouth.

"But you have the capacity to understand the illogic of ending a life needlessly."

"So, those of you that follow this Surak, never kill anyone or anything?"

Mirok shifted uncomfortably, "There are circumstances where it is necessary."

"Such as?" Prael raised an eyebrow.

"A life may be taken if it will save lives."

"Each time we feed our families we save lives."

xxx

The sun highest in the sky, Mirok watched the community gather to butcher the felled creature from the nearby forest. The overpowering scent of blood on the wind filled his nose which caused his stomach to react, tensing uncomfortably.

"Father, why did they kill that creature?" his small daughter stood near him, wide-eyed with anguish and fascination as more came from their temporary settlement to join in the butchering.

"This is what people do, Yvel, when they do not follow the logic and wisdom of Surak."

As the two watched the last of the Vulcans in the community leave their daily chores to help carve flesh from bone, Mirok wondered if he would ever help his wayward brothers and sisters from their misguided practices.

One child from the gathering wandered over to him and Yvel. Mirok recognized him even through the blood of the slain creature smeared heavily along his face and arms. Prael carried a chunk of the slaughter wrapped in leather.

The boy silently placed the piece, bigger than his head, on the ground in front of Mirok and his daughter.

"For sustenance to supplement your diet of twigs and berries, here is some meat."

Not long after their arrival to this planet, gifts of carcass portions were shared but this was by far the largest piece that had ever been presented. The village, especially the village elders, wanted very little to do with off-worlders and their constant talk of Surak. Mirok found it odd that they so readily shared their kill with those that did not participate in the daily function of their community.

Yvel walked toward the offering and unwrapped it from the leather to peek inside. Still covered in the short-haired fur of the creature, the meat seeped bright green blood. Curious about the texture of it, Yvel knelt down to poke it gently with her finger and her nose wrinkled involuntarily.

Prael's hard expression softened when he looked down at Yvel and a small, barely noticeable smile appeared on his face. In return, Yvel smiled back until Mirok called her name.

It was enough to remind the young girl of what was expected of her. The smile disappeared quickly from her face, as it did from Prael's, and she returned to her father's side.

"It was my first kill," Prael proclaimed.

Only then did Mirok notice his wife had come to them, standing to his other side. Focused on her, Prael's eyes were brimming with pride that accompanied his extended chest and high set jaw.

Yaave's eyebrow rose at the gesture and her gaze fell to the ground where the uncovered hunk of carved flesh lay in the open as several winged insects swarmed around it. She sniffed the air and Mirok was certain his wife had smelled the blood long ago, but she wanted to display her displeasure with the item.

"We recognize that you are… proud… of this but it would be agreeable if your people ceased to offer us the flesh of murdered animals. Yvel, come with me," she said just before turning and walking away from them, returning to their dwelling.

Yvel turned away and walked quickly to reach in pace with her mother but allowed herself a moment to look back at her father, Prael, and the offering on the ground.

Mirok waited until his wife and daughter were no longer within listening distance then spoke to the Prael, "My wife is correct. It is only a waste for your people to continue offering when we do not eat meat."

Just before his wife had left, Prael's demeanor changed radically. His shoulders slumped, the pride he'd once shown in his eyes disappeared, and his chest had deflated but now he seemed defeated.

Dragging his feet along the dirt, Prael returned to his people, specifically to his parents. His mother wrapped her arms around the boy while his father turned to Mirok with furrowed brows. Prael's father's face, especially his ears, turned a bright shade of green.

xxx

The sun brushed the tips of the treetops of the nearby forest and continued to sink downward when someone knocked on the door of Mirok's family's dwelling. Not a common occurrence when living among a culture that would simply enter entrances while the sky continued to cast anything other than the inky color of night.

Mirok opened the door to allow Chel, Prael's mother, inside. Her husband and son followed. "Honorable Mirok, we wish to speak with you and your wife," Chel spoke in a voice that announced their presence. It was appropriate behavior according to their community.

Yaave entered the central area from Yvel's room with her daughter. Certainly both were meditating before the evening meal and were curious with the raised voices of visitors.

"Honorable Yaave," Chel addressed Mirok's wife, "we have been made aware of a grave mistake. We did not consider the differences between our peoples under the circumstances."

"We are not aware of any circumstances," Yaave replied.

Chel straightened herself, standing tall and proud as she rested her hand on her son's shoulder. "My son is strong. Today he made his first kill and therefore begins his journey towards adulthood. We find it beneficial to bind him to your daughter. We have proven we, as a clan, can provide for her. Prael, with his kill has proven he will be able to provide for her."

Prael's head turned to Yvel and the smile he'd given her earlier in the day returned as his mother continued, "Our people expect a male to present his chosen betrothed and her mother a haunch of sustenance from his first kill."

It did not occur to Mirok at the time but the motivations behind the stranger events of their stay on the planet had suddenly become evident in moments. He realized that the offerings made to his family, gestures he mistakenly thought were a matter of sharing with visitors, were in fact to ingratiate their family with his.

"At first, we thought you had rejected our son. It would be well within your right to do so but a reason must be given. However, Firar reminded us of the long forgotten ways," Pralaril added.

Firar, the eldest among these people was the first of them Mirok had ever met. Born two generations following the first settlers, Firar's understanding of traditional Vulcan culture was through stories told by dying elders. The extent of his knowledge, however, was extensive and essentially accurate.

"It is your custom for parents to discuss unions directly?" Chel asked Mirok and Yaave.

With a child at seven years of age, most parents on Vulcan would begin a search for prospective mates as Mirok and Yaave had. The idea of Yvel having spent a large percentage of her life on this planet discouraged most families on Vulcan from agreeing to bind a son to her. Mirok had not considered an alternative until the moment Chel had presented one to them.

Mirok nodded. "It is customary for parents to discuss the matter."

Chel smiled, visibly relieved and obviously bolstered with renewed hope for her son.

"Among our people, our son's achievements would speak for themselves. Instead of this cultural given, I shall speak of them to you."

Before the woman could utter another word, Yaave interrupted her, "We do not require your rendition of your son's achievements."

Although these communities appreciated direct, brutal honesty, there were a few circumstances where they did not. The statement was more abrupt than even the community would allow and before offense could be taken, Mirok interjected, "We know your son well, Honorable Chel. However, are you aware that Yvel is not yet of age to endure her kahs-wan?" Mirok asked them.

"For our females, a betrothed must protect her during the kahs-wan. It is considered an exercise to teach both to work together for a common goal," Pralaril explained.

Mirok nodded in understanding, "You have taken into consideration our customs and it is only logical that we do the same for your customs. We were unaware of your intentions. Now that we are aware of them, we will require time to discuss such an arrangement."

Chel nodded and she, Pralaril, and Prael turned to leave Mirok's family's dwelling when Prael hesitated. His eyes connected with Yvel's and Mirok watched the corners of his daughter's mouth twitch just as Prael smiled before leaving their dwelling.

xxx

Early morning, just as the first rays of sunlight reached above the treetops, Mirok stared out of the window of his family's dwelling with interest until his wife entered the central area.

"You earnestly consider binding Yvel to that child?" she questioned her husband.

"Both children have strong minds. With Yvel's assistance, they could guide his people to the logical path that Surak has taught us to follow. Also, for most of her life she will have been raised on this world."

He then reminded his wife of the uncomfortable fact, "Her prospects for a mate from Vulcan are extremely limited."

Yaave seemed unconvinced as her eyes focused on Mirok. "I do not agree that this is the correct path for Yvel. She could not flourish among these people. They refuse Surak's teachings and I do not think that will ever change."

"We both made the decision to help our wayward brothers and sisters. Do you no longer believe in our mission?" he asked his wife and she did not answer for a long moment before finally responding.

"I do believe in our mission."

"Then come," Mirok said to her softly as his hand reached out in a gesture beckoning her closer. The Vulcan woman walked to her husband's side and at his silent urging turned to look out of the window.

Mirok was sure she could see what he had been watching. Yvel sat in their garden but she was not alone. Next to her, Prael knelt down for a better view of what the small girl was doing.

"This seed will become a plant as large as you or I. Perhaps even larger under the correct conditions," Yvel explained.

"Fascinating. I've always wondered about the cycle of the plants in the forest."

Yvel's little fingers rested the tiny seed in the hole she'd dug with her finger then covered it with the small mound of dirt nearby. "Would you like to plant the next seed?" she asked him, holding the seed in the palm of her hand to him.

Carefully taking the seed from her, Prael copied what he'd seen Yvel do with the previous seed, gently patting the dirt as one would and infant. He then smiled in her direction, satisfied with his achievement.

Picking up a stone from the ground around her, Yvel placed it next to the spot where Prael had planted his seed. "This will mark it. When they grow, you will know that this one is yours."

Mirok looked to his wife as her head turned away from the window. "We are not here to force our will on these people as I must remind myself everyday. It is our mission to show them a more logical path and allow them to decide for themselves. It is apparent Yvel can help them. And upon observing her with Prael, she may not find a bond between them disagreeable."

"Perhaps," his wife began as she walked away from the window, "such a union could be beneficial for Yvel."


	4. Opposition

**Chapter Summary**: The United Federation of Planets was formed in 2161, but it was not a simple process. When species come together, is it ever?

**Notes**: This is a little different from the other stories in the series, but it is still a description of a day in one Vulcan's life. This character appeared in the episode "Home" and I mentioned her in "The Understanding" with a little backstory.

A big thanks to Honeybee for beta-reading. Also, I would like to thank everyone from the workshop at The Delphic Expanse site. Although many of the suggestions and ideas are not in this piece, I am working on the expanded story.

**Disclaimer**: Of course, _Star Trek_ does not belong to me.

* * *

x

A silver and cherry-wood table stretched across Cochrane-Salok Hall, one of the many structures built for the fledgling government. Dignitaries representing their worlds as members of the Coalition of Planets sat in their own clusters trying to establish the fundamentals of what was to be called "The Federation of Planets."

Most of the groundwork had been laid, but as the humans often said during these times, the devil was in the details.

As aide to the Head of Vulcan High Command, T'Kaala witnessed one obstacle after another come and go during the process. But the more specific questions of trade, proposed governing structure of the Federation, and conflicting basic philosophies were the main points of contention.

Overlapping trade routes were a constant source of conflict between Andorians and Tellarites. Rigelians would not budge where medical patents were concerned, and the Coridanites were just as unyielding with the issue of mining colonies on several of their moons.

But the latest in the unending river of disagreements was the issue of marriage. Many species argued for rigid regulation that would have disallowed the quad marriages among Andorians and the extremely extended marriages of Denobulans.

Her superior was instrumental in brokering a compromise, a simple suggestion that each planet determine the number of spouses allowed within a marriage. But again, the details of the agreement were where sides were reluctant to budge.

T'Kaala watched the proceedings from above but could no longer stay away from the din of humanoids. It was time to leave the spectators' balcony. Though not much more than a walkway, it was teeming with guests not just from the founding planets but several others as well.

Frenzied voices chattered in numerous languages as their excitement taxed her emotional control. It wasn't difficult to understand how so many wanted to be present for this, as it was a monumental feat for many planets to not only band together, but to attempt to organize under one government.

And even as the energy among these people irritated her, it was far better than the intense, and in some cases belligerent, voices below.

But procrastination was illogical, and T'Kaala began her descent to the lowest floor and to return to her superior.

It was disconcerting, albeit expected, that one by one each group fell silent and watched her pass them. Each collection of representatives feared their conversations might be overheard by a strategically placed assistant.

When T'Kaala reached the Vulcan seats, T'Pau glanced her way only to acknowledge her return and then continued to speak with her advisors. T'Kaala took her place quietly near her superior and began to sort through the stack of PADDs T'Pau had left for her.

There was one that required the attention of the Andorian Chancellor, and T'Kaala prepared herself mentally for the inevitable. After one last deep breath, she gathered the PADD in the crook of her arm and walked toward the Andorian delegation.

As expected, they were not happy to see her. In fact, many eyes narrowed in mistrust while their hands reached for sidearms that were not there. Empty gestures as all parties were required to leave weapons not under the control of the Coalition, outside of Earth's solar system. T'Kaala guessed it was perhaps a reflex thanks to their violent natures.

A fairly large group of Andorians, including representatives from the subspecies of their planet, remained silent as she waited. Tlenrav ch'Telin, the Andorian Chancellor's assistant and her Andorian counterpart, stood to meet her. It had become a ritual of sorts as T'Kaala spoke so that everyone in their general area could hear.

"My superior wishes to communicate with your Chancellor," she told them, then handed the PADD to Tlenrav ch'Telin and left. She didn't make it all the way back to her seat before Chancellor Razhavran th'Lesk was behind her, his resonant voice clearly unsuited for the atmosphere of compromise and civility they tried to foster during these meetings.

"We will not recognize unions between an Andorian and another species!"

Eyes of representatives around them, and a few far across the table, were focused on him and the attention was enough to temper his display of fury into a more reserved state... at least by Andorian standards.

His face, however, did come uncomfortably close to T'Pau's as he spoke more. "We require four to reproduce. The average family on Andoria has three..." he held out three stubby blue fingers in front of the Vulcan leader's face. "... three offspring. As it is now, we cannot sustain our population."

T'Pau said nothing as she watched the man withdraw himself from the Vulcan area to return to his own. T'Kaala admired her Minister's control.

The last thing they heard from their translators was a grunted statement from one of his advisors, "Not to mention, the idea is repugnant." The man sneered their way and followed his chancellor.

Rational discussion and logical outcomes were going to be difficult to achieve, T'Kaala thought to herself.

* * *

T'Kaala crossed her room to turn on the light when an arm wrapped around her neck. It was tight and cold and undoubtedly Andorian.

With a twist of her torso and a spring of her body forward, the blue man thudded to the floor in front of her.

"Nice to see you're still on guard," he chuckled, his eyes flashed in the fairly dark room like a nocturnal animal.

"Why do you insist on these violent greetings?" she asked, more than a little annoyed that after a difficult day of negotiations, she had to work all that much harder to control her emotions.

"Because..." he began as he stepped closer and his eyes fixed to hers. Even in the dark, she felt them on her and they reached into her, beckoning her to him. "... it's not violence, it's play." The sound of the last word was deeper, more of a primal rumble.

T'Kaala knew her eyebrow rose involuntarily at the comment but her mind was too preoccupied with quieting her loudly thumping pulse.

He slid her robe from her shoulders and his cold lips brushed her neck. Her body shivered and she was never certain if it was in response to his desire or his body temperature. Either way, she never allowed herself to ponder the question longer than a few seconds.

Her head lifted to give him better access as she closed her eyes and allowed him to roam wherever he pleased.

With each encounter, his hands had become more adept in removing her Vulcan clothing and the tug and sudden loosening of her shirt was enough to know that he'd effortlessly untied her top. It fell to the floor with her robe.

Only millimeters from her skin, his hands hovered over her arms, her shoulders, her chest and it sparked shocks throughout her body, anticipating his touch.

His mouth took hers and his hands pulled her body to his. The contact between them caused her body tremble.

* * *

Supported by his arms, Telin lifted himself from her body and flopped beside her in her bed. His skin was drenched in sweat as though someone has splashed him with several buckets of water as her own body shivered. It was definitely unnatural for the two of them to be together, and yet...

His hand rested on her lower ribcage and the two were quiet for a moment until he sighed contently, "Zazhay t'nash-veh."

T'Kaala's focus shifted from the ceiling to his face and found his ice-blue eyes staring at her as though there was nothing more in the universe that interested him than to look at her. His antennae stretched forward, searching, seeking her out in the dimly lit room.

"I believe that was meant as an endearment? You consider me something that belongs to you, but I do not understand... zazhay."

"It's a rock," he answered and the corners of his blue lips curled into one of his smiles. T'Kaala had to admit that the thought of being called a rock disappointed her, but it pleased her to see him smile.

Telin absentmindedly circled the area where his hand rested with his finger as he continued, "Most Andorian chan and thaan must participate in a rite of passage. For chan, we have to hold the zazhay rock, a rock that is heated during midsummer, for as long as we can."

His head drew in closer and T'Kaala felt his cool breath on her skin. "It's a test of endurance," he told her as he lifted himself to puff out his chest and his head high in self satisfaction, "and no one has been able to beat my record, yet."

It occurred to T'Kaala that his hand was positioned directly above her heart.

"There are times when you actually burn my skin and I lose almost every drop of moisture in my body. Many Andorians are known to become ill when exposed to these temperatures. And still," he said as his hand continued to rest where it was and she could only guess that he wanted to feel her heart beating, "I cannot be without you. Sometimes I wonder if Uzaveh gave me this ability just so that I could be with you."

As she lifted his hand in hers and their fingers entwined, she marveled at the contrast of his blue skin tone against her golden-green. It fascinated her to feel his cool temperature against her very warm hand and how it was strangely invigorating.

"Although I should not, I find your company... most agreeable, and I too have the ability to endure the extreme difference in body temperature."

She then released his hand and in doing so, felt an emptiness that seemed colder than his touch. Immediately, she regretted separating her skin from his, but the last vestige of logic pushed her onward. "But it is illogical for us to be together."

Telin smiled and draped his arm across her midsection. Turning his lanky, albeit well muscled body, he exposed his bare blue cheeks and stretched down to his toes.

"And yet, here we are," he purred as his antennae stood erect and facing her, "again."

His arm pulled her to him and his tongue rounded the edges of her ear from lobe to point. It would have been wiser to remind them of their obligations to their worlds. That she had a betrothed just as he had three, and that both of them were expected to help maintain their peoples' population. But T'Kaala couldn't help but close her eyes and allow his hand to caress her skin.

Telin whispered in her ear the mash of Andorian and Vulcan, "Zazhay t'nash-veh." T'Kaala no longer thought of why they should not be together, but reasons why they should.

* * *

"My superior wishes to communicate with your Chancellor," T'Kaala announced while standing in front of the Andorians, as she had done countless times before. Telin met her, took the PADD from her and as he'd done every time before, his fingers lightly brushed against hers. It was enough... until the night.


End file.
